Sin City Secrets
by wannabewriter07
Summary: A case from Greg's book come back to haunt him, and Morgan may be the only one who can save him.
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry, I have story ADD and like to hop from one idea to another when I write. So in an attempt to cure that, I wrote this whole thing out before publishing. Now I will try to go back and finish some of my other stuff before life becomes hectic again. Love to have your reviews on what you think. Hope you enjoy!**

Morgan scanned the books on the bookstore's shelf. How long had it been since she read a romance novel? Actually, how long had it been since she had been on a date? Okay, don't go there, Brody, she told herself. Wasn't it depressing enough to know that her ex-boyfriend was getting married? Did she really need to remind herself of the fact that she was nowhere near marriage or a long term relationship? God, how she missed dating! The excitement of the first date, the anticipation of that first kiss, the feel of someone laying next to you in bed keeping you warm inside and out. How did she end up like this? Buying a book about someone else's love story instead of creating one for herself. She sighed and selected a book. Guess tonight wasn't going to be any different. Besides she had a bottle of wine calling her name. That, this new book, and a bubble bath would once again be her companion for another lonely Saturday night.

"Morgan?" She was making her way to the checkout counter when the sound of someone calling her name stopped her. She turned to see him sitting behind a table, that gorgeous smile spreading across his handsome face.

"Greg? What are you doing here?" She asked approaching him. He picked up one of the books stacked on the table in front of him.

"Book signing," he answered holding up a copy of his book, Sin City Secrets."The store's manager asked me to come out and do it. They like to highlight local authors." He lifted his shoulders in a shrug as he sat back in his chair. "Interest has been pretty light. I was actually kind of bored until I saw you. What are you doing here?"

Morgan blushed and tried to hide the risqué cover of the book she was about to buy. Greg swiped it out of her hands before she could. He looked at the book and then raised his eyes to Morgan, arching a brow.

"Looks like some..umm..intriguing reading you've got there," he said, admiring the cute way Morgan's face cringed with embarrassment. She grabbed the book back, avoiding eye contact as she spoke.

"A friend recommended it," she lied."I normally don't read books like this. I'm more of mystery fan myself. I'm just reading because of my friend and her, um, recommendation. I'm just going to shut up now." Her face flushed a bright shade of scarlet.

"Morgan, it's okay. Girls like romance. I get it. Nothing to get embarrassed about. I might actually grab a copy myself. Seems…entertaining," he said, smirking."Maybe we could start a book club." Greg watched her tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, shyly smiling.

"So how are sales going?" she said changing the subject as she browsed through Greg's book.

"Sold about seven so far tonight. Three elderly women who liked to flirt with 'such a fine young man.' Their words, not mine. The rest were a bored housewife, two fellow history nerds, and a guy that had to buy something to use the bathroom."

"Well, I'll take one, so you can round that up to eight." She handed him the book. He smiled and signed it.

"There you go, Miss Brody," he said giving the book to her. She opened it up and read the inscription.

 _To Morgan, by far my prettiest fan. Love, Greg_

Morgan laughed. "Well I hope a supermodel doesn't come in line behind me or you'll have to change this."

"That inscription will always stand. Supermodel or not," Greg said meeting her eyes.

"Well, you are quite charming, aren't you Mr. Sanders? No wonder those old ladies fawned all over you."

They talked a little while longer before a few people lined up behind Morgan.

"I should go," she said grabbing her merchandise. She said goodbye and started walking away. She looked down at the romance book in her hand and remembered her earlier thoughts. Why should she wait for some guy to ask her out? She could ask. And she better take the risk now or she'd wind up a spinster, living through trashy romance novels the rest of her life.

She turned around to Greg as he finished signing for the last person in line. "Hey, Greg, you want to go out sometime? You know, grab a bite to eat or something?"

"Are you asking me out?" he asked, taken back.

"Well I guess that depends on your answer," Morgan responded, afraid to look at him and see rejection written on his face.

"Well," he checked his watch, "in about fifteen minutes, I'll be done here. You want to hang back and grab a bite with me then?" She bit her lip hesitating as she considered the offer. She hadn't expected this to all happen so soon.

"Sure, why not?" The wine could wait, and Greg was far better company than her cat. Great company in fact.

"So…" Greg's voice broke her daydreams. She realized she had been standing there staring at him for a few minutes. "You okay?"

"Absolutely… I'll go buy this," she held up the books and then remembering the romance's cover quickly put it by her side. "I'll meet you back here in a few."

* * *

After purchasing what she now considered "Plan B" if the night went bust, Morgan sauntered over in Greg's direction, trying not to seem too eager. Her efforts were pointless though as Greg was absorbed in a heated discussion with a flashy businessman over some topic in his book.

"I'm not sure about that. Most speculate the hidden fortune is nothing but legend." Morgan caught the tail-end of whatever Greg was talking about.

"Come on. You wrote the book on the subject, apparently." The flashy businessman scoffed, holding up Greg's book. "Surely you know more than most about Campisi's lost fortune. Maybe even where it's buried?"

Greg laughed. "Everything I know about Niccola Campisi is written in chapter sixteen. I might have one or two things I'm saving for a sequel, but if I knew where the fortune was buried, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be on my yacht instead. But, hey, you if ever find a map or clue, let me know and I'll grab a shovel and help you dig."

The businessman gave a tightlipped smile, sizing Greg up, probably contemplating whether or not to believe him. "Right. It's a lucky sonofabitch whoever does stumble across that massive wealth some day."He gave a small chuckle and held out his hand to Greg, who shook it. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Sanders." The man glanced over at Morgan and gave a curt nod before walking away.

"What was that all about?" Morgan asked as Greg grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. Putting it on, he gave Morgan a sly grin.

"I'll tell you about it over dinner. You up for Italian?" he asked, placing his hand on the small of her back as he led her out of the store.

* * *

"Niccola Campisi was one of the legendary mobsters of the 1930s Vegas era. He had a hand in everything: drugs, gambling, prostitution. Basically anything deemed immoral that made money." Greg began explaining after placing their order. Morgan listened, mesmerized, watching Greg's handsome features as the candlelight cast a flickering glow on him. "Anyway, on October 25, 1935, the so called 'King of Vegas' was dethroned when the Ponzi scheme he had been running against some of the other biggest mobsters in town was discovered. He was shot seven times, one for each of the friends he betrayed, and then he was chopped up in seven pieces and left in front of his mansion for all the Vegas' elite to see. A warning to not mess with Ramone brothers, the new Princes of Sin City, and those who had lost the most to Campisi's scheme. Of course, no one was ever brought to justice for the crime, because after what happened to Niccola, no one wanted to risk it."

"Wow, that's brutal," Morgan said, sipping on her wine. "So what's with the whole lost fortune mystery?"

Greg flashed her his pearly white smile, leaning in to finish the story. "Well, that's the thing. The cash he stole was never found. Not by the Ramones, not by his wife, who being desperately broke had to go back to being a high class call girl, and not by the police. Supposedly Campisi was leaving town the night he was killed, tipped off about the impending raid. He didn't make it out, but the money did, allegedly hidden somewhere in the desert a few days before Campisi's murder. Eighty years later, there is still no sign of missing money. Some researchers believe he hid away up to twenty million, scamming at least that much or more from some of Vegas's most infamous criminals for ten years."

"That's crazy." She looked down at her wine and then back up at Greg, batting her lashes. "What's even crazier is how much you know about Vegas. What prompted you to write the book?" She ran her hand over her copy on the side of table, smiling as she remembered the inscription.

Greg shrugged, letting his eyes sweep around the restaurant. "Well I like history and a good scandal, as do most of America based on tabloid sales, so I thought I'd try my hand at writing a book. I've kind of always wanted to write one. The city just gave me the material."

"Well, I'm excited to read it. Again." Morgan smiled meeting Greg's surprised gaze.

"You read it already?"

"Parts, actually. It's really interesting. I hadn't gotten to the Campisi murder yet. I have been sneaking peeks from the copy on your desk every now and then. You're a great writer, Greg. I'm looking forward to the sequel someday."

Greg reached across the table and took her hand in his, gently caressing it with his thumb. "As a matter of fact, I'm working on one. Actually, I have a rough draft of a couple of chapters on my computer at home if you want to come over after dinner." He studied her reaction to his suggestion. "I would love to get your opinion on them."

Morgan glanced down at their interlocked hands, a tingling sensation bubbling inside her.

"I would love to."

* * *

Greg's apartment, while clean, had a boyish charm. Posters of rock bands and famous Vegas crooners hung next to each other, framed on the walls. His furniture was sparse, as was the decor, but the pieces that were there were nice. Elegant even. A leather sofa and sturdy oak coffee table were the focal points of the living room. A large flat screen hung on the wall next to the posters. Not really what she had expected, but in all honesty, she had never really given it much thought before.

She sat on the sofa and Greg made his way to the kitchen.

"More wine?" he asked over the island that connected the two rooms.

"Please." She said as she leaned back against the cushion making herself comfortable.

Greg looked over at her as he poured the wine. "My laptop's right there if you want to start reading. Should already be up on the screen. I was working on it last night." He motioned to the computer on the coffee table.

Morgan opened it up and then frowned. "Greg, what's the password? It won't let me past the lock screen."

Greg's eyes went wide and he hurried from the kitchen nearly spilling the glasses of wine as he quickly set them on the table.

"Um, forgot about that. I'll get it." He turned the computer screen out of her view and rapidly typed something. He let out a breath and turned it around, handing it back to her. "There you go."

Morgan shot him an skeptical look. "What's the matter, Greg? Is your password something incredibly embarrassing? Keep in mind that if you say yes I will pester you until you give in and tell it to me."

"Ha! Good luck. I'm uncrackable." He smirked sitting beside her.

"You think that, but it's only because you have yet to meet your match."

"Oh really, and you're my match, huh?" He leaned back and threw an arm behind her.

"In every way." She stopped smiling when she saw the intensity behind his stare, his eyes boring into hers. It suddenly dawned on her what she had said and how it came across. "I mean, we're both CSIs, so if anyone can break through your exterior it would probably be me." Well that didn't sound any better.

She opened her mouth to try a third attempt in making her point when Greg's lips crashed down onto hers before she could speak. She fell into the kiss as she laid further back against the leather couch. Greg took her lead, and leaned in on top of her, closing the space between them.

"Morgan," he mumbled as his mouth inched down her body, hovering now above her collarbone.

"Mmm..what?" Morgan asked, hoping he wasn't having second thoughts.

"That's my password. Morgan." He pushed up slightly to see how she would respond. She moved in, capturing his lips with hers this time as she pulled him back down to her.

They moved to the bedroom, shedding their clothes along the way.

It felt like a dream. Everything was so surreal. The way his skin felt against hers, soft and sensual. The way they connected, a perfect fit. The sound of his breathing, increasing in pace with hers, arousing in her desires she had long forgotten.

He held her afterwards in the silence, broken by the pitter pattering on the window.

"It's raining," she whispered.

"So it is." His lips brushed across her ear and down her neck. She smiled.

"I love the rain," she said.

"I love you," he countered. She returned the sentiment and gave him a lingering kiss. Before long, she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

* * *

A sound woke her. Hazily, she looked around realizing she was not in her bedroom. The memory of the night returned to her. It had been real. She turned to Greg, but his side of the bed was empty. She noticed then that the bedroom door was cracked, light streaming in from the other room.

Quietly, she grabbed a folded t-shirt from on top on Greg's dresser and her underwear from the floor. Once dressed, she made her way into the living space.

"Greg?" Silence greeted her. Her eyes scanned the room. The untouched wine glasses from earlier laid broken on the floor, red wine seeping into the carpet like blood. A dark stain had soaked into the corner of the coffee table. Dark crimson drops turning into drag marks led away from the table to the entrance of the apartment. The front door was slightly ajar and as she moved closer, she realized the lock had been broken. Fear gripped her, and dread sank like a weight in the pit of her stomach. Where was Greg? When a quick search still turned up nothing, she knew what she had to do.

Her unsteady hands fumbled with the phone as she dialed.

"9-1-1. What's your emergency?" came a voice on the other end.

"I need the police over here now." Tears streaked down her face. "I believe there has been an abduction."


	2. Chapter 2

Morgan pulled Greg's robe, the one she had stolen from his bathroom, tighter around her. His scent lingered on it causing her heart to speed up a beat, sending another wave of fear through her. She answered all the detective's questions as he took her statement. Her eyes moved to the perimeter of the apartment complex, searching for any signs when she saw Russell and Sara approaching.

She moved towards them.

"Morgan? You called this in?" Russell asked, eyeing her interesting attire.

"He's gone!" She was frantic. "I woke up and there was wine or…" she caught her breath, "blood everywhere. And Greg was gone." She choked up on the last words as Russell put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Okay, it's okay. Greg's tough and smart. We'll find him." He attempted to calm her. Sara gave her a pitying look. But Morgan knew better and when they walked into the scene, she saw them exchange a worried glance.

"Morgan?" She cringed hearing her dad's voice behind her. She had been so wrapped up in her concern for Greg, it was just now hitting her that everyone in the office, including her father, was going to know all about their intimate encounter only hours earlier. She turned to face him, blushing as he looked her over and then raised his eyebrows, his gaze landing on the rest of her garments scattered on the floor right outside the opened bedroom, showcasing crumpled bedsheets on the unmade bed. "What's going on here?" he asked, an edge in his voice.

"There's a partial shoe print over here by the couch. Looks like mud," Sara said, drawing Morgan's attention away. "It looks fresh, but it might be Greg's though."

"I have a finger print and blood on the end of the coffee table." Russell bent to lift the print and capture the image with his phone. "Let's see if we can get a match off of this," he said emailing the photo.

"Morgan?" Ecklie asked again, his voice a little softer now. She looked back at him. Tears brimming once again at the corners of her eyes.

"Dad," she cried, startling him as she gave him a hug. "Oh God, what if he's hurt?" She sobbed into his shoulder as he rested his stance, returning the hug. He sighed, scanning the unpleasant scene.

"We'll find him," he said, sounding as if he was not really sure he even believed that.

* * *

Sara brought Morgan a cup of coffee as she sat outside on the curb of the parking lot, staring off into the dawning twilight sky. The concrete was still wet from the rain.

"How are you holding up?" Sara asked as she took a seat beside her. Morgan grabbed the coffee and looked at her.

"I was there, Sara. I was there and I have no idea what happened or if I could have stopped it," Morgan said. Her voice teemed with anger and regret.

"Morgan, you can't think like that. It wasn't your fault. We have to focus on getting Greg back, safe." Morgan nodded as Sara patted her back. "Did you hear anything? A struggle? A voice, perhaps?"

Morgan shook her head. "It was raining so hard, and with the thunder…I didn't even know Greg had left the bed until I woke up."

Sara gave a grim nod. "The print came back through AFIS. A Jeffrey Ramone. Does that name ring a bell?"

Morgan shook her head again, pausing as a thought struck her. "Do you have a picture?"

Sara thumbed through her phone and then showed the screen to Morgan.

Morgan gasped. "Yes, I recognize him. He was at the bookstore yesterday talking to Greg. They were talking about the Campisi case in Greg's book. About the legend of his hidden fortune. He kept claiming Greg knew more about it than he was saying." Her voice grew small as she remembered her conversation with Greg. "Did you say his last name was Ramone?"

"Yes," Sara said, rereading the name. "Jeffrey Ramone."

"Sara, we have to find Greg now. This guy is out for vengeance, and I have a strong feeling that he won't hesitate killing to get it."


	3. Chapter 3

Finn and Sara were in the layout room, piecing together evidence and research on Jeffery Ramone, when Russell walked in.

"I have everything ever recorded about the Campisi murder and stolen fortune, but there are eighty years of speculation and few verifiable facts. With the time crunch, we need a real expert who has already sifted through all of this to help us." Russell said dumping books and files on desk in front of him.

"We need Greg." Sara sighed.

"Maybe we already have just what we need to help find him." Morgan walked in, now more suitably dressed, holding Greg's laptop in her hand.

"Morgan… you can't be here. You can't be a part of this case," Russell warned.

"Please, Russell. I can't just sit at home and I can't concentrate on any other case knowing Greg's out there, possibly hurt. I just can't…" Her voice trailed off.

Finn moved to Morgan's side, putting an arm around her to steady her. "I can work on this with Morgan sitting on the sidelines. She will be here, but not necessarily involved in the investigation.

Russell bowed his head, shaking it. He looked over at them. "Fine, but clear it with Ecklie first. When we catch this guy, I don't want anything to keep him from being prosecuted."

* * *

With Ecklie's reluctant go-head, Morgan and Finn began scouring Greg's computer for clues.

"Well, I need to call Archie and have him break this passcode before we can find anything," Finn said looking at the lock screen.

"No you don't. I know the password." Finn looked at Morgan.

"Okay, what is it?"

"Morgan." She said softly, trying desperately not to cry. Finn's gaze turned sympathetic.

"God, Morgan, I'm so sorry." Morgan gave her a sad half smile.

"I love him, Finn," she told her.

Finn patted her hand. "I know you do." Finn typed in the password and the screen changed to show a word document.

"More Secrets of Sin City," Finn read. "Looks like Greg was writing a sequel to his book. Do you think there is anything in here about the Campisi case?"

"That's what I'm hoping for. Greg said something to Ramone about saving some information for a sequel. This is what I think Ramone was after. I think he thought there was something in here that would give him the direction he needed to find the legendary treasure he believes is owed to his family." Morgan scanned the screen, reading through the beginning of what Greg had written.

"So if this is what he wanted, why not just take the laptop? Why kidnap Greg?" Finn asked.

"Why take the book when you can have the author? Greg not only is an expert on the case, but he would know how to decipher anything else Ramone had probably already come across about the location of the money," Morgan answered.

"That might be good then. It gives us hope that he hasn't hurt Greg too bad since he needs him." Finn reassured her.

"Until Greg discovers what they are looking for. Then who knows what Ramone will do. We have to find him before then. We have to." Morgan's voice became shaky. She try to push the worst scenario out of her head.

"We will." Finn typed the word Campisi into the document search engine. Ten pages popped up. Both women read through them.

"So Campisi had an illegitimate son?" Finn said, rereading Greg's words.

"Not just any illegitimate son, but one with Marlon Ramone's wife. His murderer raised his child, never being the wiser."

"Or so we think," Finn commented. "What is Jeffrey Ramone's connection to Marlon?"

"He's his great grandson. Why? You think there is a something there?" Morgan asked.

"I think that there might be more motivating him than just hidden fortune. Like also hiding a disgraceful family secret. One that might deny him the fortune he is already suppose to be entitled to." Finn speculated.

"So we shouldn't be focused on finding the location of a long lost treasure. We should be searching for Jeffrey Ramone."

"Exactly. Find Jeffrey and we find Greg. We need to know more about Jeffrey Ramone."

Morgan's phone buzzed. She looked down to see that she had a text from a blocked number.

 _304 Glendale Road. 10 pm. Come alone if you ever want to see your boyfriend again._

She stared at her phone. Greg. She still had a chance to save him.

"Morgan?" Finn's voice broke her concentration.

"Huh?"

"Is everything okay?" Finn's expression turned to one of concern.

Morgan's mouth felt dry. "Actually, no. I'm a little lightheaded. I haven't gotten much rest since this whole ordeal began. I think I'm going to go home and lie down for a while."

Finn nodded. "Sure. I'll keep you updated on the case."

Morgan felt a lump in her throat. "Thanks." She tightened her grip on her phone. She had to save him, and right now, she was the only one who could.


	4. Chapter 4

The street was deserted when Morgan pulled up. She sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel as she surveyed the area outside the windshield. What was she looking for? Would he send her a sign or was this all an elaborate set-up?

"Any sign yet? Are you okay?" The words came in with some static.

"I'm fine, Dad. Nothing yet. How's the visual? Are you getting a clear picture?" She adjusted the small red pendant around her neck.

"Yes…Morgan, I'm not sure about this. I can't shake the bad feeling I have about this whole operation. It brings back terrible memories. You don't have to do this. We will find Greg. I already have someone trying to find the signal on his phone."

"Dad," she clenched her teeth as she spoke into the microscopic mic, "I am doing this. I have to make sure he is safe. I have to do this for Greg."

A pair of headlights flashed in the distance. "I think I spotted them. I have to go." She turned off the engine and took a breath. She had to do this for Greg. No matter what, despite all her fears, he had to come first.

She stepped out of the car and walked toward the black windowless van that had flashed its lights. She contemplated doing this alone. But her good sense won out and she stopped by her dad's office before leaving. They wanted to play it quiet. The less who knew about the undercover op, the better. So far, only Russell, her dad, and a few other cops staked out nearby were involved. She hoped to keep it that way, praying this wouldn't blow up in her face like last time.

She begged her dad to get the cops to keep their distance, to wait a street over, less they be spotted and Greg's chance at life compromised. She needed everything to go according to plan.

A man she didn't recognize sat in the driver's seat, concealed by sunglasses and a dark hat. "Go to the back," he barked, barely looking at her. She made her way around the vehicle, gasping when she looked into the opened double doors at the back. There was Greg, bloodied on one side of his face, his lip busted, and one eye swollen shut. His hands and feet were bound, tied so tight she could see the rope burn beneath the restraints. Without thinking, she jumped into the van.

"Oh my God, Greg! Are you okay?" She ran to him, ignoring the cautious groan coming from the ear piece hidden in her ear.

"Morgan. Please no," he whispered, looking at her with his one good eye. She shushed him, gently examining his injuries as she ran her hand along his face.

"Not so fast." A deep voice said behind her. She turned to see Jeffrey Ramone crouched in the back corner of the van. In his hands, he held a small automatic with a laser dotting her chest. "Back away from Boyfriend now." She moved away sitting in the spot across from Greg that Ramone had pointed to. He kept his aim as he moved to shut the doors. Ramone banged on the double paned glass that separated them from the driver's section. "Drive," he commanded, smiling eerily at Morgan.

He held the gun pointed at her as he played with a loose curl that fell on her shoulder. He glanced back at Greg and then returned his demeaning stare back at Morgan. "She's pretty, Mr. Sanders. Prettier than I remember. I might not kill her after all. I might just make you watch me have some fun with her instead."

"Don't touch her!" Greg's strained voice tried to yell. Ramone laughed and moved to kneel next to Greg, never breaking the gun's trajectory.

"You know how this works, Mr. Sanders. You destroyed any chance I had at my inheritance, so you are going to help my find my new trust fund hidden in the desert. When you do, you and your girl will be free to go, alive. But if you don't, you get to watch her die before I kill you."

Greg spat at his face, meeting his mark. Ramone wiped his cheek, and then stood and kicked Greg in the gut.

"Greg!" Morgan yelled, quieting as the gun's laser moved up to her face. Greg rolled onto his side, shuddering in pain.

"Morgan, I'm sending in reinforcements. We are trying to find visual on the vehicle." Her father's voice played quietly in her ear. "Russell, do we have any distinguishing features on the vehicle or the driver from the playback?" "Nothing yet. Can't find it on the radar. Still can't find a signal on Greg's phone either. Does Morgan have hers?" Russell's voice answered him in the background.

"Shit!"she mumbled, picturing her cell sitting in the console of her car. Greg consumed so many of her thoughts, she wasn't thinking straight.

Ramone turned his attention to her. Using his one free hand, he slapped handcuffs on her hands and then another set on her ankles.

"Sit tight, Sweetheart. Won't be long now. We're just waiting on your boyfriend for the info." Ramone gave her another slimy grin.

Morgan looked across at the broken man she loved. "How can he figure this out when probably all he can think about is how much pain he is in? You need to give him medical attention." She fumed.

Ramone's grin widened. "Pain creates pressure, Sweetheart. And pressure is all he needs to put the pieces together."

The van rolled to a stop. Dread coursed through her. She wasn't sure where he had taken them, but if her dad didn't find them soon, it might not even matter. Looking over at Greg, she wasn't sure just how much more of this he could take.


	5. Chapter 5

"Morgan…" The sound echoed in her ear. She woke up in a dark room, unsure of how she got there. Greg laid slumped beside her. She tried moving her hand, but cried out in pain when she did. Her wrists were cut raw from the handcuffs.

"Dad?" she spoke groggily, carefully checking to see if anyone else was around. All seemed clear.

"God, Morgan, are you okay? I thought we had lost contact."

"No, I'm fine. I have no idea where I am, but I'm breathing. He must have drugged us." She let her eyes adjust to the dim light.

"How's Greg?"

"I'm not sure. I'm going to check."

"Greg. Greg," She whispered loudly as she nudged her shoulder against him. "Please be okay." He groaned, shifting next to her.

"I'm okay, just sore," he responded, struggling to sit up. "Morgan, I'm so sorry I got you involved in all of this. I realized I had my phone in my jeans pocket when I came to in the back of the van. I managed to get it out and tried to call and alert you, anybody, when he found out what I was doing. He saw who my screensaver was and matched it to your picture on my contacts. I never wanted to put you in harm's way." His voice cracked, and even in the dark, she could tell he was near tears. "After he sent you that text, he tossed my phone. I prayed you wouldn't show up. This is not how I wanted you to remember me."

"Greg, don't say things like that. We will make it out of here. We will be fine." She nuzzled her forehead against the side of his face. "They are going to find us. We just have to find a way to stall Ramone."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll come up with something. You just stay safe. No matter what happens to me, promise me that you will make it out of this alive."

"Greg-"

"Promise me," he urged.

"I promise." She kissed his cheek caked with dried blood. "Greg, what happened last night? How did Ramone find you?"

"I had been researching my new book the past few weeks, making some calls and inquiries. That's how I stumbled across the fact that Jeffrey Ramone isn't a descendent of the Ramone family. His grandfather, the last of three children, is actually the product of an affair between Cynthia Ramone and Niccola Campisi. It was huge find. A perfect addition to my book. But I got too excited. I wasn't thinking. Word spread about my interest and eventually got back to some of the actual descendants of Marlon Ramone. They want to cut Jeffrey out of the family business, meaning no trust fund and no financial resources. It never occurred to me how far these people would take it. But mobsters and money, I should have known. Now he is demanding I find the Campisi treasure or he'll kill me and those I love."

"God, Greg, I'm so sorry. That's awful." She hated seeing him so distressed.

"Yeah, I guess he was scoping me out at the bookstore. Checking to see if I really was the source of his descent into bankruptcy," Greg groaned. "I'm such an idiot. I should have recognized him. He looks so much like Campisi did in the pictures from the 1930s."

The sound of a creaking door silenced them and stole their attention. A stream of bright light blinded them until a man's figure approached, casting a shadow.

"So, Mr. Sanders, remember anything now?" Jeffrey Ramone came into view. He glared at Morgan, a devious smile plastered across his creepy face. "Since you have been given medical attention now, hopefully, your memory has been jogged and you can finally lead me to my fortune."

"You bastard!" Morgan yelled.

Ramone slapped her.

Greg fought his restraints. "Leave her alone!"

Ramone ignore him. Leaning into her face, he said through gritted teeth,"Remember Sweetheart, I can do this with or without you. You are nothing but bait. A carrot to dangle to make Boyfriend try a little harder and move faster. But carrots are a dime a dozen, so don't get cocky."

"I remember something," Greg said, drawing Ramone's attention away from Morgan. " Campisi had the controlling stock in a minefield right on the outskirts of Clark County. If he buried anything anywhere, it was probably there." Greg stole a side eyed glance at Morgan. She nodded inconspicuously, signaling that the message had been received. Ecklie alerted his team to get on their way, Morgan hearing his commands.

"Well, Mr. Sanders, if that is so, how come no one has thought to look there in the last eighty years?" Ramone countered, calling his bluff.

"Less than a week after Campisi's murder, one of the mines collapsed killing twelve men. It was filled in and abandoned after that. Soon other mines also collapsed. Campisi's camp never really ran things the legal way. Eventually the whole place was forgotten about. It's worth a shot to at least check it out. It wouldn't hurt."

Ramone studied him. "Okay. But you're wrong about one thing, Mr. Sanders. If there is no treasure, someone will get hurt. Your pretty lady friend over here." Ramone aimed the gun in her direction and then laughed maniacally. "I'll get the van ready and then we'll be on our way."


	6. Chapter 6

"Morgan, we'll have him surrounded once you get to minefields. Get yourself and Greg as far away from Ramone as you can when you exit. We don't want this turning into a worst hostage situation than it already is." Her father's words calmed her. It was almost over.

The rain started again, hard pellets ricocheting like bullets against the van. The ride was long and arduous, strained by silence and Ramone's watchful eye. Eventually the van slowed, coming to a stop.

"You are going to have to get rid of these restraints if you want us to be any help. There are several mines and piles of dirt, turning to mud, that we have to dig through to find anything. The less restricted we are, the better the chances of us finding something," Greg said.

"And let you run? I'm not that thick, Mr. Sanders," Ramone responded.

"We're in the middle of nowhere and you have the gun. Trust me. Removing the restraints provides us little advantages."

Ramone eyed him and then shifted his gaze to look out the front of the van, taking in the surroundings of the minefield, a valley of pits and hills and at the moment little else.

"Fine, but try anything and I'll put a bullet sized hole in your girlfriend's head."

Morgan rubbed at her raw flesh as the handcuffs fell off. Ramone motioned for Greg to leave the vehicle first, wrapping an arm around Morgan while he held the gun to her head. He pushed Morgan forward onto the mud outside the van. Her head bumped the fender on her way down. He followed behind, the cold metal of the gun pressed into her back.

Rain soaked their clothes, pelting them as they moved. They walked only a few feet from the van when sirens sounded, patrol cars encircling them.

"What the hell?" Ramone pulled Morgan against him as the officers piled out of the cars drawing and aiming their weapons in his direction.

"Hold your fire," Ecklie yelled, cursing under his breath as he watched Morgan become the new plaything in the hostage situation.

Ramone's focus was divided, moving from one squad car to the next, rain obscuring his vision. He didn't notice Greg move out of his range of sight, didn't hear as he moved up behind him. Stealthily, Greg yanked Ramone's arm back, causing a shot to fire in the air.

"Run Morgan," Greg yelled. Morgan back kicked Ramone in the shin and bit his other arm, making a run for it. Ramone screamed and then turned his focus to Greg as they fought for the gun.

Morgan scrambled to run, slipping in a puddle. She winced in pain as her ankle twisted at a funny angle.

Greg's gaze moved to her in midst of his struggle with Ramone, giving him a second of hesitation. Ramone saw his chance. Using the butt of the gun, Ramone knocked Greg in the head where the previous night's wound remained. Greg fell to the ground, dragging Ramone down with him. Through the pouring sheets of rain, Ecklie couldn't distinguish who was who, both of them covered in mud. There was no way to single out Ramone to shoot to disarm. Suddenly three consecutive shots rang out. Bang, Bang, Bang. One of the men slumped and stilled, but even as the other one rose, it was still impossible to tell who had won the battle.

Morgan could barely move, dragging herself slowly towards the ring of police cars. The figure of the victor gained on her, even though he carried a limp. Panic and hope fought inside her as she prayed that Greg was the one standing only a few feet away. When he reached her, she exhaled with relief, laughing through her tears as Greg pulled her up. Holding her against him, he smiled and kissed her softly as the cold rain continued to fall on them.

"Greg, Thank God. You're okay." She rested her head on his shoulder, taking in the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her. The police force charged the scene as first responders moved toward Greg and Morgan to examine their injuries.

Morgan smiled, looking up at Greg when he didn't said anything. The color had drained from his face and she felt him struggling to breathe as his chest heaved against her. "Greg?" she asked. His eyes closed and he collapsed in her arms, dragging her unbalanced body with him to the ground. "Greg!"

The EMTs gently pulled him off of her and carried him quickly away on a stretcher. "Greg! Is he okay?" she fought the young man examining her injuries.

"Hold still, ma'am. This ankle is severely swollen. It could be a break," he told her, tried to steady her and keep her still.

"Is he okay? What's wrong?" He had to be okay. He had to. The young EMT glanced up at her and sighed. He looked over at the ambulance racing away from the scene and pulled out his radio.

"What's the status on the patient in your care?" he asked someone on the walkie talkie.

"Gun shot wound. Critical. We are trying to stabilize him."

"No," Morgan whispered, everything spinning in front of her. She was dizzy and tired. So, so tired. Then all she saw was black.


	7. Chapter 7

Sterile walls and the faint smell of bleach greeted her when she woke up. Morgan searched the hospital room, spotting her father standing by the window looking out. She coughed as she sat up. Her dad turned to her.

"Hey," he smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak," she answered and then remembered what had happened and why she was there. "Greg!" she bolted up, attempting to get out of the bed.

"Whoa! Hold on there." Her father stopped her. "You need to rest. You have a concussion and a fracture in your ankle. Greg is stable. He's out of surgery and sleeping in the next room."

"He's going to okay?" she asked. Ecklie brushed the hair away from her face.

"He's going to be okay. The bullet had lodged in his thigh but missed all vital veins. He lost a lot of blood and he might have trouble walking for a while, but he's going to live. And so are you." Morgan smiled, relieved. "And Morgan, no more undercover operations. My heart can only take so much."

She laughed as she leaned back against her pillow. A new dose of pain medication started to take effort, serenity washing over her. She closed her eyes and let it carry her off to sleep.

* * *

She turned, blocked by something hard, as she try to find a more comfortable position on the bed. She opened her eyes to see what she had struck and was pleasantly surprised to find Greg laying next to her.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty," he said softly, kissing her forehead. His bruises were beginning to fade, but nothing could diminish his smile.

"Greg!" She threw her arm around him. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

He laughed. "I doubt that. I looked in the mirror before coming over here." She snuggled closer to him, breathing him in. "You're beautiful though."

"Well, I try. Got to maintain the status of your prettiest fan." She smirked.

"Never a contest there. Sorry I ruined our first date. I'll try to keep the terror to a minimum on our next one." Morgan laughed.

"Please do, although I wouldn't mind a repeat of the amorous activity," she teased.

"Oh, trust me. There will be plenty of that." He wagged his eyebrows at her.

She kissed him, gently brushing against his bruised lips. "Great. Looking forward to it."

* * *

 **One year later…**

Morgan hauled the last of her boxes into the new house. As she set it down, Greg came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"How's the unpacking coming, Mrs. Sanders?" he said, placing soft kisses behind her ear.

"Hmm…I like the sound of that. Say it again." She closed her eyes, relaxing against his touch.

"Mrs. Sanders," he whispered with added dramatic flair, moving his lips down her neck.

"Okay, we have to stop, or we will never get anything done." She pushed off of him as she reached for the box cutter. She cut the tape on the box in front of her and started pulling things out of it. Greg picked up one of the books she laid aside. He stifled a chuckle.

"What?" asked Morgan, studying him out of the corner of her eye as she continued to unpack.

"You ever read this?" He held up the romance novel with the erotic cover Morgan had bought on the night of their first date. Morgan groaned taking it from Greg.

"Nope, not a word. Why would I? I have all the romance I need from you." She grinned and kissed his cheek.

"Damn right you do, Mrs. Sanders." Greg tickled her, enjoying her girlish giggles. Catching her breath, Morgan flipped the book over in her hand.

"Do you think it's too late to return it for a refund?" she asked.

"Probably, but maybe you can do an exchange. I hear there's a sequel to Sin City Secrets coming out next month," Greg smirked. "You know, that book by that clever CSI with the gorgeous wife."

"Oh, yeah? Is that the one with the reveal to the location of Campisi's hidden fortune?" Morgan played along.

"That's the one. Spoiler alert: the money was in an overseas trust the whole time, set up under his illegitimate son's name."

"I still can't get over the irony. This city never cedes to surprise." Morgan turned to face Greg interlocking her fingers at the nape of his neck. "And although I love a good mystery and thriller, I think I have another book in mind that I would like to exchange it for."

"Oh and what's that?" Greg looked down at her smiling.

Morgan's grin grew. "What to Expect When You're Expecting." She bit back a laugh as she watched Greg process the news, his expression going from confusion to shock and then elation. Yep, no romance novel could beat this.


End file.
